


Masquerade

by EmmyJay



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Korra & Co. Go To A Masquerade Ball, Masks, Masquerade, Mistaken Identity, Nightmares, Slow Dancing, mid-season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-21 09:26:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19999651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmyJay/pseuds/EmmyJay
Summary: It's all wrong, and why didn't she notice it before?





	Masquerade

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2012, while season 1 was still underway. No prompt, I was just abruptly hit in the face with inspiration of the Crew at a masquerade ball, with Amon creepin' around the dancefloor.

It's a dance where the partners are ever-changing, but Korra migrates primarily between her teammates, and occasionally Asami. It's not the dancing that causes her discomfort, so much as the masks—all of them with their faces hidden, every person a stranger. Korra doesn't like the masks. They remind her of her nightmares, waking up in a cold sweat because she dreamt again of that unmoving not-a-face above her. 

So she stays between those she knows, from Bolin's clumsy steps to Mako's stiff awkwardness to Asami's soft palms and graceful movements. She's more comfortable leading than following, she finds, and Asami and Bolin both humour her—Bolin even curtsies his imaginary skirts, once—while Mako stubbornly fights her for control. The night is young and warm, and she finds she can ignore her own lack of experience, the press of people all around, even the way Mako and Asami look at each other when they dance. 

Again, the partners change, and Korra is swept away, laughing as Bolin leads her in a wide arc, away from his brother. His hand on her waist is slightly tighter than before, almost possessive in the way he holds her against him, and Korra feels a flush creep up her neck at the intimate contact. She laughs again, but it's more nervous than jovial; she wiggles a bit in her friend's arms, trying to get him to loosen his hold. 

He doesn't comply. Instead, he grips her tighter, and Korra abandons subtlety to plant a hand firmly on his shoulder and _push_. "Bolin, that hurts," she grouses, frowning when he still doesn't relent. "Knock it off already." 

And it's wrong. It's all wrong, and why didn't she notice it before? Bolin isn't this tall, and his hands don't feel like that, and she looks up into the eyes of his mask to see

—black and gold and calm and hate and—

_She knows those eyes._

The partners change before Korra has a chance to scream, and suddenly she's staring up into Asami's familiar face, her mask discarded, her green eyes full of confusion and concern. She says her name, but Korra barely hears her; she's too busy scanning the crowd, wild with terror, searching for someone she knows she won't find. 

Later, Tenzin will interrogate the host about any unaccounted for guests and come up empty, while Korra sleeps and dreams in circles. 


End file.
